


Mad Woman

by hermajestythekaylor



Category: Real Person Fiction, Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: Album: folklore (Taylor Swift), Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, RPF, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25954210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermajestythekaylor/pseuds/hermajestythekaylor
Summary: It is a fact, plain and simple as life itself, that society will always reject a mad woman. Anger, vengeance, and vindictiveness are all the most undesirable traits a woman could express, and therefore, society will always succeed in unhinging one until her confidence is shaken and a demure temperament has once again been assumed.Unless there were two of them.Or, alternatively, two women scalded by the same dastardly flame instead tend to each other's burns and allow for the booming heat of anger to simmer into a startling warmth instead.NOTE: Although this story is not predominantly Toe nor Kaylor, both ships are plot-relevant and therefore have been tagged.
Relationships: Joe Alwyn/Taylor Swift, Karlie Kloss/Taylor Swift, Taylor Swift/Yael Braun
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

New York City was bustling this time of the night. Ubers darting across the road, hurrying to collect drunken revelers and partygoers abandoning a flurry of neon lights and crowded dancefloors in search of the next great carousal. Young and innocent in their intentions were they as they sought the meaning of friendship through inebriated smiles and echoing laughter, searched for a deeper understanding of love in lustful gropes and touches, and craved support in the form of whiskey and vodka. 

The same could not be said for a particular couple across the town, emboldened by the privilege of privacy as treacherous hands flitted across unclothed skin. Sacred vows were forsaken as sacrilegious promises were made in their place. A thousand regrettable groans blocked out the intrusive buzzing of the outside world amidst their selfish lust for passion. The final mark came with a harried cry, biting and finite in its nature as the phone stopped ringing for the last came. 

An exhausted guilt hung heavy in the room, the kind that seeped in the first time when two forbidden parties broke a hundred promises in favor of a kindred pledge to one another. Its presence was always felt, would always be felt, but eventually slipped away into an obligatory sensation, tired and predicted rather than stinging as it once did. It was a part of him and a part of her by now, an ugly beast that was once fearsome and prideful, capable of making even the strongest of wills sway to its needs, now frail and careworn, compensated by an overabundance of cliched red rose bouquets and shiny perfume bottles. 

As each lie became more desperate, each goodbye became easier, like a mean-spirited clockwork where hearts were shattered and mended each time. He slipped out of the bed, ignoring her pleas to stay through unintelligible musing about a confusing situation and absconded with her dignity. Like an autumn leaf in the wind, he had vanished once more, leaving behind a bare body and unveiled soul. 

*

Yael Cohen-Braun knew very well that her husband was a busy man. His work took him to every corner of the country, business meetings with investors and partners in stuffy conference rooms, galas and gatherings with clients in ballrooms and bars- she had seen it all. She had done it all too. So, she knew that her husband most likely would not be in contact for the rest of the night. Still, with Levi and Jagger refusing to go to sleep until they heard from their father, she tried anyway, to no avail. 

After three bedtime stories had finally goaded the two elder children to sleep, Yael took to rest herself, cold and alone. The gentle smothering of rain atop Brentwood lulled her into a senseless repose. An innocent stream of black was the only image in her mind as she slumbered, comfortable in her oblivion as she awaited the return of her lover and wished for the tiresome day to renew itself. 

When Scooter arrived home via a red-eye flight the next morning, Yael barely received a kiss on the cheek from him before he was already flinging off his tie and rushing into the shower, eager to make his next appointment. She trailed behind him, picking up the articles of clothing drenched in a foreign cologne and in desperate need of a wash. The orderly bedroom Yael had maintained was now haphazard and unrefined but she forgave her husband as she made their space clean once more. He could do the dishes later to make up for it. 

Yael shuffled over to their bedside table, looking for the drawer freshener, only for the loud, insistent buzzing of Scooter's phone to interrupt her ministrations. It was not any of her business and she genuinely had not intended to pry but it had been lying atop the drawer and a flash of the screen had occurred as Yael searched for the desired item. 

They say mistakes occur happen for a reason. If one were inclined to make a string of mistakes, another would console them by regurgitating the old-age adage that blunders and accidents ultimately led to a positive outcome, and would advise that they keep their chin up until the end. That would have been the naively hopeful response. 

There was no happy ending to be found after this mistake as Yael's eyes found the phone. 

LeAnn: 

Last night was great fun! So many different ways to use a tie 😉. 

But I can't make it to our next "meeting", I have to visit my mother. You understand. 

Yael didn't know about Scooter, but she knew that she most certainly did not understand. 

And what the everloving fuck was meant by "different ways to use a tie"? 

LeAnn had also sent an image that Yael had no interest in opening, already aware of what it would contain by the revolting caption which read "until next time" with another one of those hideous winking faces. 

Scooter was still in the shower, humming the tune of some arbitrary pop song, hopelessly clueless about what had been uncovered by his trembling wife. Yael sank onto the cold sheets layered atop their bed as she heard the water come to a gentle stop. Blinking back the first warning of the inevitable tears, she hastily tossed the cellphone back onto the bedside table and readied her face into a smile, prepared for her husband's appearance. Without so much as a word, he beelined for the closet and began dressing himself once more. Painfully oblivious to the unspoken suffering of his tortured wife, he instead busied himself with his ties as Yael fought the temptation to take the nearby lamp to his phone until he similarly cracked and explained himself. 

But she composed herself, a saddened smile on her face convulsing into a larger, happier beam, as if her husband really was returning from a business trip and not a suspected tryst with another woman. 

"What have you got planned for the day, my love?" Scooter asked from the wardrobe, and Yael had to try not to cringe at the term of endearment. 

"Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about," Yael began slowly. "About your-"

"Yael, I will talk to you later but right now I have an urgent meeting across town with an investor. Can't miss him. Goodbye, honey."

The room was empty and therefore Yael had the space, the energy to scream, no matter how unbecoming it was. 

Only for sweet Hart to cry first, and Yael's fate was decided for her in the slow bubbling of tears and the calamitous hissing of squeals. Admittedly, regrettably, she was the one thing a mother ought not to be when tending to their young. She was distracted. The deluge of tears that had subsided into playfully mindless babbling escaped Yael as she instead diverted her attention to the more pressing situation at hand. 

What could possibly drive one woman to do this to another? Cheating seemed inherently anti-feminist to her, aiding in the destruction of another woman's happiness, her relationship. It had rebound effects as well, impacting upon the ability of a woman to focus on her job, her mothering. Not in any way due to the loss of a man's affections but due to the loss of stability, of trust. What was there to believe in after such sacrilege? Would her devoted employees soon turn on her too, thrust her out of an organization she herself had built? Would the tender and loving affection of her sons and daughter one day turn cold and bitter, like the stinging wind? All things considered, maintaining an affair was a ghastly thing to do to another woman. It was decidedly unfeminist in a world that was now turning to accept women supporting women, a world that Yael had helped to engineer. Why would she not? It was one of her most rigidly-guiding morals outside of her religion that female empowerment and support was crucial in developing the structure of a more inclusive society and therefore should not only be encouraged but instead pursued. 

Except, Yael had not been completely pious in her devotion to that belief herself. 

Middah k'neged Middah came to mind. 

And so did a blonde musician she had recently become embroiled in a very intense and public feud with. 

Fair it did not sound in her brain when she thought of it. She had only been defending her husband, after all. Whilst she was inviting the wrath of a thousand Taylor Swift fans into her comment section, Scott (she refused to abide by his childish appellation any longer, it humanized him too greatly), he was off breaking every vow in the ketubah he had signed. What goes around comes around was the general belief, and if this was indeed Yael's "karma" for her involvement in taking Taylor's masters, then it did indeed seem as though Taylor was actually right in this situation. 

Perhaps there was a sufficient way to both restore balance to the world and ensure that Scott had justice done unto him as she had done unto her. But it was something that would require significant courage, to swallow her pride and approach her enemy's doorstep. And how was one supposed to find strength and empowerment anyway so soon after having their undesirability exposed to them in the most bleak method possible? And besides, she had not been directly involved in the purchasing of Taylor's masters. It was not her who had sat behind closed doors and signed on the dotted line, so who was she to say who was truly right and wrong in this situation? This was not liberation, it was desperation. 

It was a foolish fantasy, reliant on far too many whimsies for it to be foreseeable. There was no benefit in envisioning a partnership with a woman she had taught herself to hate, even if the sick, twisted glee gave her a brief reprieve from the otherwise feelings of disgust and hatred, both internalized and not. 

Although, to give credit to her wounded brain, it was a joyfully vengeful plan, far more creative than the typical slashing of tyres or cutting of clothes. 

Even if she could not yet bring herself to admit it. 

*

Over the course of the day, Yael was fortunate in that she had plenty to distract her from Scott's misgivings. A FaceTime from Karlie that made her laugh. A drawing Levi did for her that made her smile. A call from her organization, confirming that they had been successful in obtaining the celebrity endorsement they had been chasing that made her excited. And the more she immersed herself in her friends, her family, her career, the less there was to remind her of all she stood to lose. 

Until Levi insisted that she frame the drawing of the four bears and that brought her over to the mantle, where a picture of her and Scott took pride of place. The mountains both Whistler and Blackcomb had shined as best they could for them on their wedding day, glistening and soft as if they were aiming to compete with the few clouds in the sky that had been present when their union occurred. Scott had spoken with unrestrained sincerity and kindness as they exchanged vows and were wedded. He whispered softly in her ear, declarations of eternal affection meant just for her, which only made it seem all the more truthful. Friends and family gathered and singing their praises all through the night until the last guest had bade them farewell, all unbending in their assurances that this love was beautifully adamantine and tough, like a diamond. 

What was to be gained by levying baseless accusations at a man who had claimed to love her? A man, who up until this point, had given her no reason to believe otherwise? The father of her children, to boot. And all over speculation? 

She had not actually seen the image LeAnn had sent, perhaps it was not the picture she feared. Maybe LeAnn was a business partner, a client, perhaps. Perhaps the tie comment was an inside joke shared between acquaintances over a few glasses of wine. If she could convince herself that much was true, then her marriage was not in peril, she was not wedded to a philanderer and her children were not born to a liar. 

So when Scott returned home in the evening, Yael was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt. Hart had been laid down to rest for the night, as had Levi and Jagger and thus it was just the two of them sat on opposite sides of the table, a hearty salad in front of them as silently picked away at their meal. The silent anger that had been festering for hours slipped away into the cracks of her mind, she no longer had the words for him. She attributed Scott's quietness to tiredness, and presumed he had done the same for her. He had told her of his fortune last night in persuading an up-and-coming musician to sign on with him, how he and his friends had celebrated later, and Yael had accepted it as readily as the meal before them, if allowing slight misgivings to fly as if they were unheard by her ears. 

"Yael, would you mind passing that?" He asked, gesturing to the bottle of red wine he had brought home. 

"Oh, here, let me get that for you," she offered, sliding over to pour his wine for him. 

Yael was prepared to give Scooter the benefit of the doubt. 

She truly was. 

Don't look at her like that, she was not a petty person by nature. 

But when she noticed a series of purplish bruises slightly peeking out from Scooter's shirt- marks she knew she was not responsible for, there was no hesitation to be had. She didn't know whether to put it down to the boyish smile that had turned from charming to irritatingly obnoxious or the confidence he wore walking into the house and making himself comfortable in the home he had spent the previous night destroying. All Yael knew was that her tight grip on the bottle shifted away from the glass and above Scooter's head instead, and it did not move until every last drop of cabernet was out of the bottle and trickling down her husband's face, staining his shirt. 

"Yael, what the actual-"

"You bastard!" Yael hissed, slamming the bottle back onto the table. 

"Yael, I don't understand what the issue is!" Scooter whimpered. 

"Ask LeAnn," she spat back. 

"I don't know who that is," he squeaked and although the reddened cheeks were a dead giveaway, Yael pressed further, not relenting until she had a clear admission of guilt. 

"Really, Scott? Funny how you and Josh apparently had such a great time last night after your conference when Karlie called me today, telling me about the great day she and Josh spent at the beach together. Funny how you get a message from LeAnn today detailing 'oh, last night was so much fun! There are so many ways to use a tie!' when you were apparently alone in your hotel room! So, do you want to drop the act now and own up to it or not?" 

"Yael, I'm- I don't even know where to begin, I-"

"Shut up," Yael snarled. "Get out. Get out of my house right now." 

"Okay," he mumbled, standing up. 

"Actually, no. I've changed my mind. I'm not going to sit here and stew over you and have our wedding pictures laugh at me. You can stay here, look at our three children and think about how you have ruined this family." 

Scott had no response as Yael thundered out of the room. The rest of the night was a blur to her as she hurled some clothing into an overnight bag and ransacked Google Flights for a way out of Los Angeles. The slamming of the front door was the last she heard of her family as she marched down the driveway, the pristine white Uber waiting to carry her from this place to the next. 

*

On the flight over from Los Angeles to New York the next day, Yael had consistently told herself that she was going to take up residence in Josh and Karlie's home for a day or two. They would be back in the city by now, and under any other circumstances, Yael would have sat comfortably on their sofa, surrounded by blankets and cushions. She would have asked Karlie to organize a FaceTime between her and the children, telling them she was on a business trip, Jagger would be used to it by now at least and would have ensured that there was as little communication between her and Scott as possible. 

Still, a debate had resumed in her mind once more over this debacle, namely one relating to her own misplaced guilt. Back in the safety of delusion, when she had almost convinced herself to let his adultery go, Yael had similarly told herself that this was in no way retribution for any harmful acts done unto a person, indirect or not. It would be offensive, sexist even, to blame herself for her husband's actions but as she hired a ZipCar, a predetermined destination drifting in her mind, whether or not she deserved to have such a thing happen to her was a different question entirely, one that she must eventually answer. 

Red was the color she had felt coursing through her body on the drive over, blazing a path from her broken life into her shaky future. There would be a time for sadness later, and its presence would overwhelm her as she crumpled and fell. But for now, whilst she had the energy to embody a tempest, she would ensure that Scott was, well, discouraged from pursuing any further affairs. Blue was to come soon, to come after rational thought had pushed through all barriers and found itself at the forefront of her being once more. 

Yael's hands fought against her memory as she pushed back the urge to turn to Karlie's home and instead continued rolling along the bumpy road bringing her to TriBeCa. It was a clash of two unbreakable wits that her body tired to win, finding itself a barely shifted victory as her innerworkings accepted this harebrained scheme and were instead looking for a way to best articulate this absurdity to other people. 

"Ms. Braun," she introduced herself to the doorman. "I'm here to see Ms. Swift."

For a second, she believed she would be turned away. An almost six-hour flight had a dampening effect on one's presentation, not to mention the fact that she very may well be banned from this residence. But the security merely gave her a once-over and then gestured in the direction of the stair case up to the penthouse. With each step closer, she wobbled with the fire licking at her heels, breathing down her back like a rabid hellhound until she was standing at the penthouse door. A timid knock as though she were a small child approaching a haunted house on Halloween was all it took for the sounds of footsteps to approach and for the door to open.

The flame that Yael could have sworn was within her flickered. Then it flickered again until it died out in the hunching of her back and the bowing of her head. The ice pricked at her skin like a barrage of thin needles jabbing at her body, as if the swinging open of the door had transported Yael into a tundra as she was met with two dulled blinking stars staring down at her. 

"Taylor," she said firmly. "Hi."

The taller woman was briefly silent as she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to see you, obviously. I have a proposition for you. May I please come in?"

Taylor didn't respond.


	2. Good Wives Always Know

"You have thirteen seconds to explain to me why you thought- after everything you and your husband have put me through- it was a good idea to come to my house and expect me to listen to anything you have to say to me."

Yael looked down at the pristine wooden floorboard as Taylor spoke, wondering why indeed she believed that this escapade would be met with anything other than sheer abhorrence from her nemesis. When she looked back up, Taylor was as still as cool and statuesque as she was when she opened the door, waiting for Yael's explanation. When another moment passed and Yael stood agape, trying to best explain what she was now standing at Taylor's door, the taller woman grew tired. "Right. Goodbye, Yael. Don't come here again," she said, her hand now resting on the door.

It was halfway closed when Yael finally blubbered something out and the door was brought to a standstill. "Wait! He cheated on me! He cheated!"

"What?" Taylor murmured softly, something Yael attributed to shock.

"Scooter wronged you, he wronged me and everyone else in my friend circle either adores him or is a client of his. You were the only person I could think of who might be willing to help."

Taylor opened the door wider and stood aside, begrudgingly letting Yael in. Despite the warm, inviting nature dripping from the soft, honeyed lighting onto the bare wooden floor, Yael could not have felt like more of an intruder. Her present company did nothing to assuage such feelings, instead Taylor's cornflower-blue eyes seemed as though they were attempting to will her out of the house. Perhaps it was simply because they were in Taylor's own house, structured and homely, and she was so far away from hers but somehow Taylor seemed far more intimidating in her red sweater and leggings than she ever did when gliding across the red carpet or heading the table in a boardroom. 

"So, why exactly are your marital issues my problem?" Taylor asked. 

Yael took a deep breath before responding, shaky and uncertain. She had not expected cooperation from Taylor, minimal trust at best, she knew in coming here, she would aggrieve the singer. Still, to have her "marital issues" as Taylor so coldly put it thrown back in her face, uncaring and dismissive was simply disheartening beyond belief. "They're not your issue," Yael responded coolly. "Unfortunately, they're mine. I found out last night that I had issues in my marriage I didn't even know were there. So, if you want to laugh them off fine but if you want your masters back, maybe see about temporarily removing that shard of ice in your heart and listening to me." 

It was sharper and more forceful than she had intended, and treating Taylor with such disdain was most definitely not going to help her case. But goddamnit, she was exhausted and she had already made herself vulnerable enough by admitting that to Taylor before anyone else. If Taylor wasn't going to be appreciative of that fact, well, Yael was not going to show her any appreciation either. 

"I'm still having trouble following you here, Yael. You find out that your husband is cheating on you, and your immediate reaction is to fly all the way from LA to my house so you can settle a score with him? And you think this sounds even remotely believable, especially coming from you? Why am I supposed to think the woman who was chafing at the bit to label me a bully in his defence is suddenly looking to topple him, cheating or not?"

"There were a lot of things I could have done when I found out about that, the least of all is drag myself over here whilst I was still in too much shock to think rationally. I should be thinking about me right now, throwing a pity party for myself and my own fucked-up marriage and instead all I could think about was how he screwed you over like he did to me. I thought if we could sympathise with each other, we could help each other. Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Yael retorted, her voice louder yet higher too, each passing word making her realize how truly out-of-her-depth she was.

Despite both her and Taylor's voices growing louder, Yael could still make out the distinct thud of footsteps coming closer to the pair until a tall blonde man was standing in the corner of the living room, hair tousled and his body wrapped in a bathrobe. "I heard yelling, babe," he said, walking over to Taylor. "Are you- what the fuck?"

"Um, hi. I was-" Yael began, only to find a strong English accent cutting in.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He asked, wrapping his arms around Taylor.

"I'm here to help Taylor," Yael pleaded. "I've gone about it in a stupid way but I'm genuinely here with a good offer." 

"Did you have anything to do with the purchase? Do you have any shares?" Taylor asked and there was noticeably less bite in her voice this time, as if it were almost undercut by hope instead.

"Well, no. But-"

"So, nothing you have is actually of use and after you and your husband stole years of Taylor's hard work, you've decided to come here and unsettle her?"

"That wasn't me," Yael said and although the statement was technically true, it felt like the biggest lie she had ever told.

"How can I trust you?" Taylor asked and Yael was stumped. "I mean, you come in here, no proof, no formal connection to my masters, begging me to give you the one thing I can't. What makes you think that any interaction we have is an indication that I should give you my trust after I trusted you and your husband to do the right thing and sell my own work back to me and you laughed in my face instead?"

There was a bitter silence hanging in the air as Yael swallowed Taylor's choking question. Joe was looking at her with unceremonious distaste, far from the good-natured demeanour Taylor had conveyed in her music. The songstress herself, however, seemed less aggravated than she was previously, demure, almost heartbroken.

"I was married to him for five years. I gave him everything. I gave him three children, three loving, adorable children. I was attentive, devoted, did everything he could have wanted and it didn't stop him from running into the arms of some shiksa. You did the same thing with your music, you worked on it, perfected it, gave it all the time in the world and he took it from you, like he took years from me." 

Silence pervaded the atmosphere yet again as Yael crumbled. Joe's eyes were no longer trained on her, in fact, they seemed to be looking anywhere but. Only when the first tear finally began to surface did Taylor's arms uncross. "Joe, can you please make me a tea? Green, thanks, honey."

Joe, understanding that he was being dismissed for the time being, placed a quick kiss to Taylor's cheek and made his way to the kitchen, coldly ignoring the faint, polite smile Yael attempted to muster for him. With him gone, no longer towering of Taylor and her, given that she was even shorter, Yael felt slightly less intimidated. She took a tentative step forward as she opened her mouth to speak once more, straightening her back and looking Taylor in the eye. 

"Look, you're right. I don't know how the fuck I expected this to work, you really don't have any reason to trust me and I don't really have any reason to trust that you won't blab the demise of my marriage to the media, other than the fact that, well, you didn't enjoy being a cover story either. That probably didn't help but I am trying here, Taylor. I don't know what I'm saying, I don't know what I'm doing but I genuinely want to right these wrongs and help both of us get revenge on a man who wronged us. I have nothing else to offer you except my honesty here. Please, let me do this for you. And for me too. And for any other woman Scooter has screwed over." 

"I don't know what the actual hell was going through your head when you came up with this harebrained scheme. And even though you still haven't given me a reason to, I think you're being truthful when you say that he hurt you and you want to seek justice with me. So, if after all of this, you still really want to go through with this, then okay. I'll follow your lead." 

"I don't know what to say," Yael began. "I didn't really think this through, I just jumped on a plane over here. I guess tonight was more hostile than I briefly anticipated and we should probably be more civil in the future if we want this to work out."

"Fair enough," Taylor replied. "I think we can both be adult about this." 

"Right. I don't think there's any reason for me to be here any longer, it's still pretty early in the morning, I might just be on my way then..."

"You can stay out here for a bit until you've booked a hotel," Taylor said curtly.

"I'm fine, I found one on the way over," Yael said.

She lied. She hadn't thought of that at all.

"I'll see you sometime then?" Taylor asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, you will," the shorter woman replied.

"Taylor," Joe called out from the kitchen.

"One moment," Taylor asked and made her way over to him.

Unsure of how long they would be, Yael sat down on the sofa, still and unsure of herself as she waited for Taylor. She had no doubt in her mind that the topic of discussion was her and the temptation to listen for every criticism presently being disclosed was almost too great. It was a need to defend herself, to defend her honor, her dignity, her self-worth and everything Scott's bloodied hands had snatched away from her and absconded with. 

As Yael nervously examined her fingers, waiting for Taylor, a small gleam caught her eye and she realized that despite her current position, she had never removed her wedding band. Was this truly the end of them? What she was about to do, blatantly going behind Scott's back like this and actively working against him, signaled a definite end to their relationship. In no way would Scott react well to what Yael had proposed and if their marriage was still salvable after their infidelity, this would undeniably sink any chances of them reconciling. 

Was this something she was truly willing to go through with?

It had looked good on paper, the perfect revenge fantasy when it danced in her head and fanned the flames of destruction, of retribution. But in reality, there was so much more to be realized by this unfathomable act. Taylor would probably go on her merry way after this with nothing to lose, masters in hand but what about her? So many of her friends were close with Scooter, how would this affect her relationship with them? 

Thank God the children were still too young to understand this. 

But by the same token, how could she offer Taylor the one thing she wanted more than anything in the world and then cruelly take it back? That would be no better than what Scooter did to her, lulling her into a false sense of security through a seemingly happy marriage and then tearing away at the idyllic facade without another thought. 

It was a faint meowing that pulled her out of her spiral as she took notice of a white ball of fluff wandering closer to her. Inquisitive and curious, two clumsy paws in front of the other as it stumbled over to her. It wasn't enough to completely distract her from her thoughts but it was the closest she had come to smiling during this whole ordeal. 

And in some funny way, the small cloud reminded her of Levi, Hart and Jagger, and that was both saddening and heartwarming to her funny little mind as she picked the cat up. 

"Hey, you," Yael said softly, not wanting to disturb Taylor and Joe, nor have them think that she was any crazier than they already believed her to be by having them hear her to talk who they would assume was herself. "Are you sure you're in the right place here? Because you seem too friendly for these people," she joked. 

She heard footsteps once more and Taylor came back into view, wine glass in hand. Yael put the cat down and stood up again, ready to face Taylor. "Hey," she began. "So, I spoke to Joe about... whatever this is and even though he has some misgivings about the situation and so do I, if you really mean what you're saying-"

"I do," Yael interjected. "I really mean it, Taylor. I think we can help each other here." 

"Then I guess we're really doing this. I'll see you out for now," Taylor replied, leading Yael back to the door. "Have a nice-"

"Oh, I just realized that we should probably exchange numbers," Yael interrupted. "Here, I'll write my personal on the back."

Yael outstretched a business card to Taylor, her mobile number hastily scrawled on the blank side. Taylor held out a card in return for Yael to take too, though she had not altered hers. "You can contact Tree Paine, my publicist, through here."

"Oh, um, okay," a flustered Yael responded. "Yeah, we should keep this professional. I'll, um, keep in touch."

Then she did the unthinkable, and shyly outstretched her hand for Taylor to take within her own. 

And then Taylor did the unthinkable, and slowly returned the gesture.


	3. Does A Scorpion Sting When Fighting Back?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yael thinks things over.

A few hours later and Yael was simply thankful that the Bowery Hotel had a room available. Fanned out across a soft bed free from a husband with no understanding of what it meant to be faithful and children who woke up exceptionally early, Yael had the space to rest for once. The business card Taylor had, albeit reluctantly, gifted to her was gathering dust on the bedside table. The ghost of the other woman's firm touch was still lingering like frosty air hanging in the room, causing Yael to pull the duvet closer to her as if it were a sufficient substitute for a partner. 

Perhaps it was masochism, for all one knows, it could be early signs of insanity, but all Yael could think about in her lonely suite was her eroding marriage, crumbling at her feet. Stood on the cliffside was she, the rocks tumbling off the hills and into the stormy sea crashing against the monolith. The water was aphotic, almost black as she stared it down, fearful of any infernal denizens lurking below and ready to lash out at the precipice, tipping Yael over the edge. She was trapped, immovable as she sank further until the sea spray was permanently etched onto her face.

When no amount of copious face-scrunching or ferocious blinking would wipe Yael's face of the spindrift, she slowly opened her eyes and realized that it was because she was finally crying. Not a pitiful slip of a tear that had barely risen to the surface back in Taylor's apartment but instead a proper droplet sliding down chilled cheeks and onto silken bedsheets. The second tear came much easier than the first one did. For as much as she had been trying to avoid the subject, it suddenly overcame her in an outburst of emotion. Vesuvius came to mind as slender fingers gently traced what was now a burning, reddened face.

Did Scott bring his mistress to a hotel like this? Was LeAnn treated to the same finery and beautiful rooms that Yael once saw, or did they meet behind the mall? In parking lots? In seedy, cheap motels? Did onlookers know by the shadowy hideouts they lurked in that this was illegitimate or did they see the glimmering trinkets and pretty flowers and assume this was a love for the ages?

Another spate of tears found themselves glistening on Yael's face if only for a moment before they were aggressively wiped away. Yael's anger was palatable, insatiable, like the most ravenous fires pillaging the most venerable woodlands, torching every majestic oak in its sight. Unrestrained, undeterred as it flew like a bird of prey, scrutinizing the forest for the next casualty.

If one were to look at Yael in this present moment, a rudimentary knowledge of what had transpired embedded within their mind, they would assume that such truculence was directed at her philandering husband. They would not be incorrect, unquestionably so but they would lack the depth to comprehend the hostility the woman was directing toward herself.

Guilt was a common emotion felt in many situations involving cheating. Very rarely, however, was it felt by the victim. Then again, the victims seldom responded to their husband's cheating through sabotaging their business dealings, undoing millions of dollars and years of precarious planning. One of the first attributes Yael realized she liked about Scott was his work ethic. How much of his "office time" had been spent managing Scooter Braun Projects and how much time had been spent canoodling with a woman other than his wife and the mother of his children was a question Yael was unprepared to answer and she did not think she would want one. But the material facts were that Scott was driven by his work and acquiring Taylor's masters was a significant achievement in his career, however dubious it may have been. And it would be Yael taking that away, just as he took away her happy marriage. 

Did she want to be just like him?

But she had already offered Taylor her masters back, wouldn't taking them away again make her like Scott too?

In retrospect, an offer she most definitely should not have opened up. But the temptation, the fantasy was simply overwhelming in the most delicate of ways and it assuaged every nerve until there remained only an artifical peace. 

Was this how Scott felt every time he touched LeAnn? Did he feel guilty at all? Did he see Yael's face within the desecrated linen after breaking their cherished vows time after time? Did he at least see her ghost in his lover's eyes?

What was she doing all of this for anyway? Yes, Taylor had eventually come to and was willing to begrudgingly accept Yael's assistance but there was no relationship between them, not a positive one at least. Technically, she was not even obligated to give Taylor back her masters. Why should she be? She did not take them. She may have assumed the other woman's anger, her malice, when she discovered Scott's treachery but why? 

Yael sank further into her bed as her mind twisted and turned. The image of Scott's lips on her own, of Scott's lips on another woman's. Of Taylor's sorrowful gaze, from dislike to despair within an instant. 

The last vision in Yael's mind before she fell into a waterlogged slumber was a glistening iceberg, majestic and frosty as it stood erect above the rocky water. But a closer look uncovered a myriad of chips and fragments, delicate cracks worsened by a heavy, beating sun bearing down above all as the rest sweltered and faltered. 

*

When Yael regained consciousness again only a couple of short hours later, weary and tired from stress, the first thing she noticed was the barren hotel room, rich in valuables and antiques but bearing no emotional worth to her. Where she would have woken up to a picture of Violet coming home from the hospital on her bedside table, a Polaroid of Jagger joyfully tearing the paper off a Hanukkah gift on her dresser, and a photograph of Levi playing in the garden. But instead, Yael saw only the vast expanse of the pale New York skyline and a small gallery of costly paintings.

It was foreign, unfamiliar to her, but this was supposedly the norm now. Drab and sombre was her view, the bustling roads replacing Violet's morning babbles. Was this the life she was heading toward? Unnatural, unbelievable, untouched by her mind. Going to sleep in a soft bed just for her had been nice but waking up alone with the knowledge that it was because her husband was with another woman and not because he was simply working to provide for his family was a devastating sensation. 

If this was going to be her future, and Yael could not confirm that, then she needed to understand every mystifying crevice of the world she would soon take to be hers. A test trial, just to clear her mind. She slowly rose from her cocoon and readied herself for a brisk walk in New York City. She had been before, obviously but that was her as a businesswoman, a wife or a friend. Never alone, unsure and frightened, fearful of the city that seemed to want to swallow her whole the second she bade the doorman a good day and stepped out onto the cracked pavement. 

With every passing step, New York City seemed to be judging her. She walked by a toy store with a giant teddy bear in the front window she knew that Levi would love, and that made her feel terrible beyond belief. She took notice of a cute cafe across the way, gleaming white chairs, and cozy pillows in the window calling her over, only for the adjacent bridal store, a wedding dress looking too much like her own taking pride of place in the display to steer her in the opposite direction.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," she said to the elderly man she had almost hit but he was already grumbling and on the move.

She did not belong in New York City, not in the least. That much was apparent.

Vengeance had been a beautiful fantasy when she was on the flight over, gliding through a piceous sky like the divines themselves sought retribution, bringing her to Taylor's doorstep. For a moment, when Taylor tentatively clasped her hand within her own, the idea had seemed ingenious and she had felt unstoppable when she had approached Taylor with the idea.

But it simply was not the reality. The pitter-patter of rain across New York City that had been summoned by some unfathomable, Yael-despising entity proved that. Perhaps even Taylor herself, reneging on their recent promise, banishing her from Taylor's realm back to the broken, tattered veil draping over Brentwood.

She needed to be back in Brentwood, with her children, with her organization.

Maybe even with Scott.

She was unsure of where she stood in relation to their marriage, if she even wanted to be with him at all after this. Still, one thing was glaringly clear and that was that no good was going to come out of this. If her relationship with Scott disintegrated, so would any chance of them getting back together. And if that occurred, what would happen to Levi? Jagger? Violet? She had no doubt in her mind that neither she nor Scott would ever enforce a custody battle but a broken, bickering pair of bitter exes lurking around the opposing corners of the arena, ready to snap at each other at any given moment would not be good for the future of the children.

It was clear.

She could not go through with this after all.

Sorry, Taylor.


End file.
